


Pure

by emotionalsupporthufflepuff



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Freeform, Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 22:50:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19050061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emotionalsupporthufflepuff/pseuds/emotionalsupporthufflepuff
Summary: A brief look at the life of Astoria Greengrass. TW: The work briefly mentions miscarriage, reader discretion is advised





	Pure

_**Astoria** _

Magic makes you whole

Magic makes you special

Magic makes you pure.

Magic curses the very lifeblood that pulses through your veins and threatens to shorten your life before it has even started.

Magic changes cats into kittens and mice into teacups and makes the most delightful and whimsical scenes beyond all imagination. It makes the candles float overhead and the endless ceiling reflect cloudless blue skies, perfect for Quidditch games and reading underneath a shady tree.

Laughing with friends, closer than family.

Magic also burns all your nerve ends without reprieve causing to twist in spine breaking arch as every synapse in your brain begs you to GET AWAY.

( _Run, run please legs just get up and run from this_.)

And you can still hear the Carrows laughing if you think too hard about it.

The monsters come out from under the bed, inside the wardrobe, shadowy corners, and hidden rooms. Some don’t even have faces but some you’ve know there names your entire life.

Most of them seem to know your name.

But still you stay, still, you endure.

You watch the Dark Mark hang above the castle wondering if your childhood crush is now a murderer and you can actually feel the innocence creeping out of your pores, out of your very core

Your bone, flesh, hair, skin, insides they all make you human.

Your blood makes you pure.

Your blood also makes you cursed

Actions make you a blood traitor, a bane to your family name and an outcast to society.

They carve it on to your hand. ( Your mother spends years and a small fortune to un etch the Blood Traitor from your right hand but it never budges. You learn to deal. She doesn’t.)  
War is a symphony composed of actions and battles and moments lasting only more than seconds when the whole world holds its breath

And in the same instance, everything violently jerks back into life, into motion.

The boy who lived becomes the man who's a hero and savior and we can all go back to our regularly scheduled lives.

You wander through the rubble, wondering what comes next. It feels this way for years.

One day, years later, you see him in a nearly empty pub. Something deep and tingling told you to go into the place and you listened. And your heart threatens to upheave it's self out of your nose because you feel so many things all once.  
He’s broken. So very broken, the cracks in the marble of his skin threaten to collapse under the strain of a slight breeze.

But he is so damn...beautiful...but you wouldn’t say that to his face because he would just roll those silvery eyes and complain about being emasculated.

But. Oh. My. God.

Then he gives you a smile and nod. You silently pray to every deity you’ve ever heard of that you don’t actually vomit right there. You compromise and make a stupid face and run away.

He wouldn’t want you anyway. His blood is pure and his life long if he can just stay out from under the thumb of that _wretched excuse_ for a father.

Somehow, someway, he works his way into your life. Slowly you feel the magnetic pull like that thing that pulled you into the pub into the first place. Your poor heart feels shredded from screaming in alarm so much.

You tell him the truth before you ever let him in. Your cursed, tainted, ancient magic and you simply do not have enough time left on the clock to waste grieving or playing the same games everyone else does. It sounds cold and cruel as you spit the words out, interlocking your fingers in his and pulling them out, again and again.

He doesn’t answer right away. He watches your fingers for a few minutes, he runs a thumb over your scar and answers by bringing his mouth to yours.

And your heart screams with joy with its shredded voice.

You decide to travel together. See every corner of the world because your own is far too cramped. He says he's going to cure you and every new place he has a plan. Even though you don't think it will work you let him do it. He's running from the past and you from the future.

He's cocky, sarcastic, egotistical and jaded but he's brilliant and ambitious and reads everything he can get hands on. You sketch while he reads, making magic with the not magic.

You see the world together, without pressure, without labels. You walk on pristine white beaches and jewel-bright waters in Thailand. ( You also track down an expert on blood maledictions who slams a book on sex magic into your hands and wishes you good luck-  
And well…  
It’s not entirely a bad idea  
He laughs the entire time.)

In a swampy city in America, you find a tiny run down house with multi-colored bottles hanging from a tree in the front and an ancient lady tells you to come back tomorrow for the answers you seek.

But you don’t and you always wonder if you should have.

In Japan, you fight about...something. It starts with a comment about holding chopsticks and he gets pissed off and storms out of the restaurant and someone whispers Death Eater in broken English and you are really really glad he picked that moment to be brat.

You get back to the hotel room and fight more. The warning sirens in your heart are on full blast and you think “ This is it !”

The door slams behind him and you collapse on the bed. He crawls in hours later with Sake and apologizes on his breath. You respond in forgiveness and run your hands over his scars.  
And for the first time you actually really think this thing is going to work.

He proposes in front of the Eiffel tower. It’s cliche, and overdone and there are at least 3 other couples who get engaged in the spot within the hour. He gets down on one knee and proposes with a diamond that could double as a weapon.  
It’s all so absurd and you laughed. Storm clouds cross in his eyes and his jaw gets tight. He leaves again.

It dawns on you way too late that you hurt his pride and he was trying but you never exactly talked about marriage or the future or anything. You thought...maybe you could just run forever…

You turn up outside his door 2 weeks later with an expensive bottle of liquor and promises you have every intention to keep.

He proposes again later that night, in bed. There's no ring, no scenery, nothing but the sheets pooling at the waist. You say “ Yes of course” again and again.

The parents bitch constantly about your long engagement, droning on and on like cicadas in the summer. You both ignore them and let them plan the thing complete with an overly flowery palate, a virginal wedding dress, and robes he swears they took off his grandfather's body and it even smells like a dead person. ( You have to try not to laugh the entire ceremony and fail miserably about halfway through.)

( His father complains about it for years but you laugh _every fucking time_ )

You have a secret from the family but something tells you to wait. But when you tell him you’re still standing in your wedding lingerie and heels, kicking the hideous dress to the side. When you finally say the words he makes a weird choking sound but his eyes are alight but his hands are shaking ....is he crying…

_Oh shit._

But then he wraps you in the most careful hug like you’ve announced you're made of glass. You tell him you can’t crush the baby and he says “ baby” like he’s never heard the word before.

About two weeks later, the world comes crashing down around both of you. In a little white sundress the blood leaks and stains, tainting the entire thing, reminding you that no matter how good you feel you are still cursed. The magic that flows between you two is also the very thing that curses your lifetime. The world exists in shades of black and white and red.

He holds your hand the whole time, interlocking his fingers in yours. He tells you how strong you are and how beautiful and how lucky he is.

But you don’t try again for another year.

And this one sticks.

And he grows and grows and he gets a name. A constellation like you’ve always wanted.  
“ In so that mortals may curb their pride before they fall.”

But neither of you tell anyone because it is all still _terrifying._

He’s born and he’s a copy of his father, and quite frankly you’re a little pissed you put in all work thus far for your son to look him and your father in law.

(Figures).

It takes you longer to recover than most. You feel drained, exhausted, overwhelmed and it's too much work to keep your eyes open. He does all the work without complaint, and eventually, you recover.

But then life moves in rapid motion for a while. You’re tired all the time but when that sweet face still smiles at you, your heart lurches as it did so many years ago.

But then you’re too tired. It becomes concerning. The long since silenced sirens screech back to life.

Life passes in flashes and seconds again, but every time you open your eyes he’s still there. You smile at him with all the strength you can muster.

And his little copy is there. Most of the time but they are as different in personality as they are alike in looks and you hope they can get along with you because you are just so _tired._

One night you can hear the voices calling you to come and rest. You take off your wedding ring that doesn’t even fit anymore and drop it into his outstretched palm and beg him to find love again as he looks at you with that tight jaw and stormy eyes as he says “ Absolutely not.” You just laugh at him again and interlock his fingers in yours. He runs his thumb across your scar.  
And you go home to rest.

Magic makes you whole

Magic makes you special

Magic makes you pure.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a place where I do the thing - https://www.tumblr.com/blog/emotionalsupporthufflepuff


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